


The Target

by lafiametta



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: AU, F/M, Ficlet, Modern Setting, Spy!Cassian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 03:26:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9104599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafiametta/pseuds/lafiametta
Summary: He was a spy, she was his target. It was simple, really.(Inspired bya gifseton Tumblr)





	

Things like this didn’t happen to Cassian.

He was trained for these kinds of situations, trained to set aside his own thoughts and feelings, trained to adopt the guise of someone else just as easily as he buttoned up the front of his suit jacket and straightened the knot on his tie. He was trained to play a part, and like an actor that inhabited his role each night, he did it well, fully subsuming himself into the character – in this case a third-year law student on a first date with a girl he had met by chance two days ago in a university coffee shop.

Except he wasn’t a third-year law student, and they hadn’t met by chance. He was an intelligence agent, a spy, and she was his target, the daughter of an internationally-known nuclear physicist who had gone off the grid and was thought to have gotten involved with terrorist factions. He had been watching her for two weeks, and their meeting in the coffee shop – involving a bumped chair, a spilled Americano, bashful apologies, and an offer to make it up over drinks – had been anything but coincidental. And while she might be imagining this as a date, the reality was that she was being very carefully interrogated, questions about her classes and her favorite books being subtly followed by questions about her family, where they took vacations, how long it had been since she last saw or talked to them.

But not everything had gone to plan, not exactly. He had asked his questions, delivered them well enough that he gave her no cause for suspicion, and he had determined from her answers that she clearly had no idea where her father was, her eyes narrowing with uncertainty and fear when she mentioned his name, a reaction Cassian believed was entirely unfeigned.

What he hadn’t expected – or even prepared for – was her.

She was charming and funny, full of sharp sardonic wit and a slow-simmering intensity that made him only want to discover more. He found himself drawn in by her smile, the way her green eyes sparkled like distant stars in the light, how her hands absently skimmed along the long, pale lines of her neck and played with the loose tendrils of her hair. And he found himself wanting to hear about her classes and her favorite books, about her thoughts on politics and where she imagined herself in ten years. An hour passed, and then a second and a third, as the two of them sat and talked, moments slipping by as Cassian realized he had forgotten that none of it was real at all.  _Was this what his life would be like had he never gotten involved in intelligence work?_  he wondered.  _Would he go on dates like this? Would he be here with her, thinking about how he might find a way to see her again, thinking about what her lips might taste like in the cool night air as they said their goodbyes out on the sidewalk?_

But he didn’t have the luxury of thoughts like that. He had a job to do, a mission to complete, and now that he had done it, there was nothing left to do but report in to his superiors, which he did as soon as she excused herself to find the restroom. He was slipping his phone back into his pocket when she returned, the ready-made excuses already forming on his lips. He had to go, he told her, as he threaded his arms through the sleeves of his jacket, something came up, he was really sorry, he had a great time, she was a really great girl, he would text her later.

He didn’t turn around – he couldn’t bear seeing a look of disappointment on her face – as he hastened towards the exit. But as the glass door swung closed behind him, his ears were suddenly caught by a series of brash pounding thuds, and he turned to see her standing there behind the glass, so soft and beautiful, her eyes dancing with strange and unabashed delight. There was no way to understand what compelled him to step closer and to raise his hand as a mirror to hers, their fingertips tracing against each other’s through the thin transparent barrier. But he could see the fire in her gaze, feel the way it was pulling the breath right out of his lungs, and even though he knew what he had to do, it didn’t make it the slightest bit easier.

_I’m sorry_ , he murmured, and this time he meant it. He knew she couldn’t hear him, although perhaps she might read it on his lips and understand what he was trying to tell her.  _I didn’t mean for it to happen this way. Goodbye… Jyn_.

As he walked away, he told himself it didn’t matter. It was over and done; she would forget him, he would forget her, and in all likelihood they would never cross paths again.

But maybe, he told himself, drawing unexpected pleasure with the thought, at another point – in another life – he would meet her once more. And in that place there would be nothing at all left to separate them.


End file.
